Truth in Fragments
by CelticLady
Summary: AU. When an Investigator is called in by the Opera House Managers, the subject of her investagation holds a dangerous secret of hers and for the first time, she leaves a case, but it isn't over


THE TRUTH IN FRAGMENTS

I do not Own The Phantom of the Opera

_00000000 From the diary of the famous Blake, Executioner 0000000_

_They call me Blake. _

_No last name; simply Blake. _

_It's not a lie. _

_My name, to be honest, is Blake. Alivia Blake._

_They know me as a monster hunter—the best in my field._

_This, too, is a truth, the whole truth._

_But they think I am a man._

_No._

_But I never claimed it. I merely… gave the impression, and did not correct their conclusions._

_Why would I do this?_

_Well, these are the 1800s, a time when men hold the power._

_Most women here are content with that, but in my life it wasn't always so._

_I was born in the year 2087._

_Impossible, you're thinking, and I did too, at first, but I didn't have time for incredulity. I had to adapt, to survive._

_Well, seven years ago, I was walking home from work—I was a junior detective at a supernatural; investigative firm in an age when the things that go bump in the night were legal. Funny, they all got so tame when they went mainstream, but it wasn't always so. The job of the firm I was in researched supernatural cases, providing lawyers for when the supernaturals were being persecuted, hunting down the evil ones and… exterminating them when they turned evil._

_Yeah, I did that too._

_I was a regular Anita Blake, but without all the messy sex._

_Whatever._

_I was a seventeen-year-old who read too much and fought the bad guys._

'_Course, Anita Blake was just fiction, even in my world, in the time when the old legends came out._

_I loved the fact that I had the same last name as the trigger-happy superhero, and hoped I'd be as good an Executioner. _

_That would be my codename, I thought, one day._

_Yeah._

_Well, whatever._

_The year was 2104. _

_Times were good._

_I was second in my class at the Academy, the bosses thought I had real potential in the field, and the only thing I lacked was love._

_Not that I even understood the concept._

_It's not that I'm not a feeling person._

_Boss said my one failing was feeling compassion for the monsters I fought._

_It's just… I never really had family to show me those things._

_Ma was a space pioneer; went down when something went wrong up in the deep dark._

_Dad was a Physicist—blew himself up._

_Mom died when I was seven, dad, when I was four._

_I'd been with my crazy aunt ever since, and she preferred talking to the dead._

_Probably the only way she'd noticed me is if I got shot and my ghost decided to pay a visit._

_Well, then it happened. I think I got hit by a car, at least, with the signs, that's what should have been happening._

_Pressure, pain, bright lights… darkness._

_Then suddenly I'm in this strange place._

_My hometown, Monteville New York circa 1874._

_I had to learn._

_My language courses down at the Academy helped out, and I didn't want to be some ignored little doormat like the other women of this time. So I cut short my long, curly auburn hair, stole some men's clothes and bound my already disappointingly small chest, and applied a few special makeup tricks._

_In the town, I came upon a massacre._

_Turns out the supernatural didn't always just "want to live in peace"._

_Vamps had killed everyone._

_Positive. I acquired money, clothes, things I could sell, and gave the dead a proper burial._

_And it was then I found my calling._

_To humans, I'd be Blake; back home, people at work usually called me by my last name anyway._

_But to the evil ones, I was simply… Executioner._

_I had the training._

_I had the firepower._

_And now, I'm the best._

_Not to brag—it's jut the truth._

_The year now is 1880, and I have been called to Paris, France on a rather strange case of haunting._

_The Garnier Opera House, it appears they are plagued by a Phantom of sorts._

_I am twenty-seven years old this year; still a virgin._

_I'm unmarried; well, I can't let my secret get out._

_No family._

_No husband._

_No children or lovers._

_Nothing to show for my life except hollow wealth and a reputation._

_After all this time, I feel old, though I know I'm relatively young._

_No, it's just my heart that's old._

_I find, after all this time… I'm lonely._

_And I've decided to keep a log._

_Maybe after this case I can settle down, maybe… be Alivia again._

_Maybe this can be my last._

_I've been less careful lately, missing my softer side._

_In all this time my thick hair has grown back, and on working days I work it up in a tight weave, wrap it, and hide it under a hat._

_It's become one of the eccentricities of the Executioner._

_Only my enemies know the truth, those with such advanced senses. But I've been able to hide it from most of them, with men's cologne._

_Sometimes on days off, I let down my hair, put on a dress, and transform._

_I am no longer the harsh, cold, aloof, hardened Executioner on these days._

_I am Aliviana Murphy, wide-eyed, innocent younger sister._

_It's nicer than I thought._

_Maybe I'll retire after this one—it's big money. _

_Tomorrow, I leave my nice little Parisian apartment and go investigate the case._

_After all, the managers paid for the best._

* * *

Tell me what you think. 


End file.
